Aspyn Guzman glanced up just in time to see Grant Guzman walking out, a trace of detachment in her eyes. Lucky for him, she no longer expected a thing from him—otherwise, that might have stung.

She stepped inside after Grant and found the exact scene he'd described: everyone was there except their father. Her brothers, Jay and Ezekiel, were on the couch chatting with Avayah.

"Zeke, I love this dress. Could you get it for me?" Avayah asked, flashing a sweet smile.

"Of course, no problem. I'll have the brand send over the entire season's collection," Ezekiel replied, generous as always.

"Jay, I'm stuck on my paper. Could you take a look at it later? Please?" Avayah batted her lashes sweetly.

"Sure thing!" Jay said, his tone indulgent.

Their mother watched her children with a look of gentle affection. It was the perfect picture of a warm, loving family.

Aspyn felt out of place—just like she had when she'd first come back to this family six years ago. She'd always been the outsider. Case in point: that time Avayah broke down crying, the whole family swarmed around her, while Aspyn stood there overlooked for over an hour.

This time, though, their mother noticed her sooner and hurried over, excitement in her eyes.

"Aspyn, you're back?" her mother exclaimed, eagerly reaching for Aspyn's hands. "Let me get a good look at you."

"You're so thin! But your complexion has improved."

Aspyn gently pulled her hands away, her tone flat. "Thank you for your concern."

"Aspyn, enough with that attitude," Grant cut in, his patience wearing thin. "The whole family is here to welcome you back, and you're acting like this? For what?"

Their mother's face flickered between hurt and disappointment. "Aspyn... are you blaming us?"

Seeing their mother upset, her siblings immediately rushed to console her, Avayah already close to tears. "Mom, don't be upset."

"Aspyn, blame me all you want, but please don't be like this. Mom missed you so much."

"She's been thinking about you every single day for the past three years. If you keep acting like this, you'll just break her heart."

Aspyn watched them close ranks around Avayah. The irony was almost funny.

She had lost three years of her life for Avayah, and somehow they had still cast her as the threat.

"Can you not cause a scene the second you walk through the door and drag everyone down? Just apologize to Mom," Ezekiel grumbled.

Aspyn gave Ezekiel a slight smirk. "Didn't Dad publicly cut ties with me when I was sentenced? Why should I apologize?"

A heavy silence descended over the living room.

Their mother stared at Aspyn, clearly pained and completely at a loss for words.

Grant finally broke the awkward pause. "Back then, the company's stock was crashing. Dad had no choice but to make a quick call. We can fix this; you don't need to worry about it."

"Alright, you must be exhausted. Why don't you go freshen up, and come down for dinner," he added, his tone noticeably softer. If Aspyn hadn't brought it up, he probably would've forgotten the public disownment ever happened.

When the scandal of the unlicensed driving and fatal accident broke, the company's stock took a nosedive, and Grant had suggested the disownment as a temporary fix. They'd planned to reinstate her once things settled down—but somehow, it slipped their minds.

Grant glanced at Aspyn apologetically, but her eyes no longer held any admiration or expectation. Instead, she looked utterly indifferent, which left him uneasy, like something was off and he couldn't put his finger on it.

Aspyn ignored all the unspoken questions and followed the housekeeper to her room to shower. She couldn't wait to wash off the grime of her past. But when she saw the clothes laid out for her—a frilly, girlish style that was so Avayah—she paused.

Ever since she'd been taken in by this family, her wardrobe had been filled with this style, clothes she never even liked. She'd naively believed they were picked out by her mother out of love, so she wore them despite disliking every single piece.

It wasn't until later that she found out they were just Avayah's cast-offs.

Every season, the newest fashion collections were bought for Avayah, and whatever she didn't want ended up with Aspyn.

But now? She was done with those hand-me-downs.

After her shower, Aspyn put on her own clothes instead of the ones provided, and headed downstairs. The family had gathered at the dining table, presumably to celebrate her homecoming. Yet no one had waited for her. They were all busy fussing over Avayah—until their mother finally noticed Aspyn was missing.

A rare flicker of guilt passed through her mother's eyes. Noticing that Aspyn hadn't changed, she hurriedly asked, "Why didn't you change? Were the clothes the wrong size?"

"Yes," Aspyn said, no further explanation.

"My fault. I thought you and Avayah were about the same size, and the clothes would fit you."

Same size? Aspyn was a good six inches taller than Avayah. Had her mother ever even noticed that those clothes were always too short?

Unable to hold it in any longer, Aspyn let out a soft, sardonic chuckle. "Not your fault. I ate well and slept well in the facility, so I grew. It's only natural you wouldn't know."

Her comment plunged the dining room into dead silence.

A piece of silverware slipped from Avayah's grasp and clattered to the floor. Her face went pale with fear.

Their mother rushed to soothe her. "It's alright, Avayah."

Grant shot Aspyn a cold warning look. "Don't mention that place. It scares Avayah."

Just the mere mention of the facility frightened Avayah and sent them all into a panic. But had any of them ever wondered how she'd managed to survive those three years inside?

Aspyn's lips curled into a bitter smile. How one-sided their concern was.

Watching the family fuss over Avayah, a trace of scorn flickered in Aspyn's eyes.

She focused on her food, tuning everyone out. It had been a long time since she'd tasted anything this good.

By the time the Guzman family snapped out of it, they found Aspyn eating quickly and with real relish, completely unbothered by their little drama.

This new version of Aspyn was unfamiliar to them.

She used to care so deeply about their feelings. The slightest sign of displeasure would leave her anxious and worried, until she saw them happy again.

Her transformation left everyone on edge.

Just as Grant was about to speak, he caught sight of a ghastly scar running across her wrist—and he blurted out, "What happened to your hand?"

Aspyn Guzman glanced at her wrist, her tone flat. "Just an injury."

Grant Guzman opened his mouth, then thought better of it. The sight of that scar—and what it implied—left him unsettled, the words stuck in his throat.

His earlier anger began to fade. He cleared his throat. "Even though you're still on parole, we managed to get you re-enrolled. You can complete registration tomorrow and get back to your classes."

Aspyn was caught off guard. She'd been racking her brain, trying to figure out how to get back into school—she hadn't expected the Guzman family to clear that hurdle for her. Saved her the headache, at least. She'd enroll first, then put in a request to switch her major.

Her real passion was biochemistry, but because of Avayah, she'd ended up in literature. The Guzmans didn't trust Avayah to be alone in the lit department, so they'd switched Aspyn's program without asking. Back then, eager to fit in, she'd reluctantly taken on a double major.

She wouldn't make that mistake again. The sooner she got her hands on lab equipment, the sooner she could get back to her real work—developing pharmaceuticals under the codename "Union."

Years ago, someone had noticed her talent. They'd exchanged messages online a few times, and were supposed to meet about her joining a pharmaceutical research team. Then her life got completely derailed—by her imprisonment.

Now, back to the present. Aspyn was about to thank Grant when Avayah piped up.

"Aspyn, I got into the graduate program at the same university. We can study together now."

Ha.

So that was it.

Aspyn had been wondering what kind of miracle—like the sun rising in the west—had made them so considerate. But no. Of course it was all for Avayah.

They'd only revived her academic status because Avayah was going to grad school. In the old days, she would've been the scholar tagging along with the princess.

For a split second, she'd been naive enough to think they'd finally remembered she was part of the Guzman family too.

Her mother smiled, dropping a piece of pulled pork into her bowl. "Jay's also taken a teaching position at the school, but he'll be busy. We'll need you to keep an eye on Avayah."

Aspyn stared at the food in her bowl. Sweet, sticky, not something she cared for—but it was on the table every single day.

Because Avayah loved it.

She set down her fork and stood. "I'm done. Enjoy your meal."

With that, she turned and headed for her guest room.

She couldn't afford to clash with them right now. She had to endure her first ninety days on parole.

Nobody expected her to bail like that. It wasn't until Aspyn had already climbed the stairs that Ezekiel grumbled, "Did you see that attitude?"

"Let it go, Ezekiel. Aspyn just came back. Cut her some slack," their mother chided.

Avayah chimed in, "I'll go talk to her—maybe discuss tomorrow's school plans."

Her mother looked relieved. "Yes, you two have always gotten along. Go have a chat with her. She's becoming more withdrawn."

Their mother frowned, but then she remembered Aspyn had spent three years in a god-awful place, and she swallowed her irritation.

Upstairs, Aspyn was thinking about visiting Grandma the next day when a knock came at the door. Before she could even answer, the door swung open, and Avayah stepped in.

Aspyn's expression went ice-cold instantly.

"Aspyn…" Avayah started, hesitant. "I just came to see if you need anything. I can have someone get it for you."

Aspyn looked up, her gaze dripping with sarcasm.

Avayah's words only underscored the gap between how they were treated—like a constant reminder of where Aspyn stood.

How absurd. Aspyn was their biological daughter, and yet she was treated like a stranger.

No. Worse than a stranger.

Aspyn replied coolly, "I told you three years ago. Don't call me 'sister.'"

That title had cost her three years in prison. A sibling she could live without.

"Aspyn…" Avayah's eyes welled up. "I know you're angry with me, and I want to make it up to you. I really do…"

Aspyn cut her off. "If you're so sorry, give me money."

"What?"

Avayah froze, her tears momentarily forgotten.

Aspyn gave a humorless smile. "Didn't you say you wanted to make it up to me? How about a million a year? Three million total. Seems fair, right?"

Avayah was completely dumbfounded. She hadn't expected Aspyn to ask for cash.

After a long pause, she finally managed, "Three... three million is too much. I don't have that kind of money."

She was spoiled, sure, had an allowance—but nowhere near millions. Even if she had a few hundred thousand lying around, she wasn't about to hand it over.

"Too much?" Aspyn stared at her. "I did three years for you. Isn't that worth three million?"

"No, that's not—" Avayah bit her lip, looking miserable. "I'll... I'll figure something out."

She scurried out of the room. Not long after, the door slammed open—this time kicked in by Grant, his face thunderous.

"You come back and immediately start trouble in this family. Can't you just keep the peace?"

"You know Avayah's health isn't great, and you go and bully her?"

Aspyn met Grant's gaze coolly. Her brother—who hadn't asked her a single question about what she'd been through, but was quick to come at her like this.

"Why don't you ask what I actually did to her?" Aspyn turned to Avayah, who was hovering behind Grant, looking upset. "Did I insult you? Hit you? Or did I frame you and get you thrown in prison?"

"No, no…"

Avayah shook her head frantically. The words "frame" and "prison" made her panic.

"Grant, she didn't do anything to me. Let's just go."

Seeing Avayah so shaken, Grant's chest tightened. He tried to soothe her. "Don't worry. I'm here. She's not going to mess with you."

Aspyn, arms crossed, leaned against the wall, watching the whole sibling soap opera with bored indifference.

"If you're not here with money, please leave. I need to rest."

"Money? What money?" Grant couldn't help but ask.

Avayah had come to him earlier, eyes red, too upset to explain. Seeing her like that, Grant had just assumed Aspyn was bullying her, and he'd rushed over to intervene.

"Your sister just offered to give me three million."

Years ago, when Aspyn had first been brought into the family, their father had given her a card with a million bucks. She'd given it back then.

At the time, she hadn't wanted the money. She'd wanted family.

She wouldn't be that naive again.

Pride didn't pay the bills. Might as well take what was hers. Those three million? Well-earned.

Even Grant Guzman, hearing the three-million-dollar demand, couldn't help but furrow his brow. Beside him, Avayah whispered, "I think Aspyn didn't mean it. She doesn't have that kind of money, so..."

Grant's chest warmed. His sister was too kind, too gentle. Three million? He could swing it. If it made Avayah happy, it was worth every penny.

He grabbed his checkbook, scrawled out a check, and tossed it at Aspyn's feet like trash.

"There you go!" His eyes brimmed with disdain, daring her to say a word.

Aspyn looked at the check on the floor, then lifted her gaze to meet his, icy and unblinking.

"Grant, don't act like you're doing charity. This money is what I'm owed. You pay for services, right? You pay your employees, don't you? I spent three years on your precious sister. Isn't three million justified?"

"You—" Grant's temper flared. He grabbed her arm on instinct, stretching the blouse off her shoulder.

He froze at the sight of thick scars crisscrossing her skin.

"What the hell is that?"

Aspyn glanced at her shoulder, her eyes darkening. She shook him off and adjusted her blouse. "Can't you see? I got hurt."

"How?" Grant frowned, genuinely puzzled.

Aspyn let out a mirthless laugh. "What do you think prison is like, Grant?"

His name on her lips—not "Mr. Guzman"—made Grant want to lash out, but her mocking stare stole his fire. Guilt crept in, and he looked away, defensive. "I had people keeping an eye on you. They said you were fine."

"Hah!" Aspyn laughed, her eyes going cold. She shoved both Grant and Avayah out of her room and slammed the door.

Grant wanted to storm back, but those scars haunted him. He'd shelled out serious cash to keep her safe in there. How could she've been hurt?

Then he thought about her voice. It wasn't the same—no more bright and clear, but rough and worn. What the hell had happened to her in those years?

The next morning, Aspyn was up early, ready in the living room. She'd actually slept well for once, no need to stay on alert.

Jay came down shortly after, not sparing her a glance. He just went about his routine. It was always like this—Grant would occasionally speak to her, Ezekiel might acknowledge her if he was in a good mood, but Jay stayed aloof, treating her like air, saving all his warmth for Avayah.

Funny thing was, her desperate need to connect with Jay—the family's academic star—had pushed her to excel in school. That's where she'd found her passion for biochemistry. But before she could ever have that conversation with him, she'd been locked away.

Now, she didn't want it. Didn't need it.

They coexisted in silence, a strange sort of peace.

Jay couldn't help glancing at her. She was glued to her phone, no intention of talking. He frowned. She used to hover around him, quiet but always there. Now, her indifference threw him off, though he told himself it suited him—he had no patience for nonsense anyway.

Soon, their mother and Avayah came down, noticing the siblings sitting apart, no interaction. Their mother sighed, resigned. Avayah's lips curled into a barely-there smile.

"Hey, Jay!" Avayah chirped, bouncing over to loop her arm through his. "Did you wait long?"

"Not long. Let's eat first. I'll take you to school after." Jay patted her head.

"Okay!"

Avayah beamed, and only then did she "notice" Aspyn. "You ready, Aspyn? Let's eat together?"

"Already ate," Aspyn said, not looking up.

She'd cooked herself a bowl of pasta earlier, just to avoid sitting with them. School would be a nice escape.

Their mother noticed Aspyn still in yesterday's clothes. "I had some clothes bought in your size last night. Let me know if they fit."

A housekeeper had chosen a T-shirt and jeans in her size. The clothes were impersonal, but at least they were practical—exactly what Aspyn preferred.

"Thanks, ma'am."

She went up to change.

Tall and lean, the outfit looked good on her. Clean, sharp. Her hair was cut short, adding to the neat look.

Their mother was about to compliment her when she saw a long scar on Aspyn's right arm—clearly from something sharp. She gasped.

"Your arm..."

Aspyn glanced at it, chuckling. "It's nothing. Just a nick."

Had she complained, their mother might've felt better. But her calm, matter-of-fact tone only stoked the guilt in her chest.

Their mother wasn't a fool. That wasn't a scratch. And with the scar on Aspyn's wrist too, she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

Aspyn's years in prison had been hell.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Aspyn's steady gaze left her wordless.

After they left, Grant finally came down. Their mother couldn't hold it in.

"Is it true she had a rough time in there? Didn't you make sure she was taken care of?"

Grant didn't have an answer, his face darkening. "I'll look into it."

"Please do. She's your sister. We can't have people thinking we mistreated her," their mother said softly.

In the car, Aspyn took her usual spot in the back, quiet and invisible. Jay chatted with Avayah, occasionally glancing at Aspyn in the mirror. She just stared out the window, never once looking back.

Finally, Jay broke the silence. "I'll take you to admissions later."

"No need, Jay. I've got it," Aspyn said, turning him down.

"Suit yourself!" Jay's face went cold.

He'd offered an olive branch, and she'd thrown it back. Have it her way.

At school, Aspyn found the admin office and handled her enrollment without a hitch. She was dying to switch her major.

What she'd expected to be a hassle turned out suspiciously easy—maybe the Guzmens had pulled strings, or maybe because she'd already been minoring in biochem.

Switching from literature to biochemistry was seamless. A genuine smile finally spread across Aspyn's face.

She had money now. She had her dream major. Everything was falling into place.

That happiness lasted barely an hour. She walked into the biochem office and found Jay and Avayah standing there. Small world.

Jay frowned. "Weren't you in literature? What are you doing here?"

Was she here for him? So she'd been pretending all morning, just to get his attention?